


By Lantern's Soft Light

by Muonna



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Smut, im sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6714433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muonna/pseuds/Muonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small one-shot where Pol gets hurt, Hancock patches her up and they talk about feelings. Then they bone because I'm a sinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Lantern's Soft Light

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one-shot to sort of ease myself back into fic after a small break. I wrote like, 15-20 thousand words of fic, which I'm still patching up on my end and will come out soon. But then I was all burned out so I decided to write a little something.  
> It's a slow burner and I'm still bad at smut.  
> If you want updates follow my tumblr, lindiranae, or my twitter @jayisanerd.

The building was empty, that much was clear. The pair had found a small abandoned diner, out of the way, some ways south of Diamond City and decided to poke around for some food and rest, hopefully. It had been a long day out of an even longer week.  
Inside was musty, dry, not exactly clean but a welcome break from raider dens and super mutant cages, with their abundance of gore and danger, and there was no fungus to be seen. A small gas lamp sat in the middle of the floor, illuminating the room with a dull flickering glow. There was no blood, no reek of raider, ghoul or mutant and compared to them it was a veritable paradise. Pol had practically cried with relief when, upon poking her head around the door, she was greeted by silence and nothing but the smell of dust and aged wood. And she leaned into the door, took a deep breath and sighed. It was nice to let her guard down, it had been so hectic constantly dodging bullet and insult alike.  
Today had been taxing, she'd taken a bad hit from a super mutant primus that had knocked the wind out of her, left an awkward purplish bruise on her stomach, and another from a raider who had snuck up behind her and managed to stab his pen-knife into her shoulder. It hurt like hell, bled like a stuck pig, but wouldn't cause any lasting damage beyond another scar. Of course, the addition of her trailing blood – and worrying that that would attract a ghoul or wild dog was not needed, nor helpful- . And by now, she collected scars. Still, the sole survivor was glad for a break from the battles, even more so for a roof over their heads for tonight; they were still a ways away from any place they could call home, and would probably be stopping in at Diamond City for a spot of trading before heading back. There was of course, The Dugout, and the Colonial Taphouse, but she was loathe to stay there too long; having a reputation as a ghoul lover made folks whisper about you, and she preferred the company of her lover over Diamond City prudes. Even if winding up the robot at the Colonial Taphouse had become a hobby of hers. All she had to do was stand there and talk to Hancock. On one occasion, she had pulled him close and kissed him deep and hard, flipping off the patrons with a wry grin. It was a rare moment of daring for her, and she had regretted it almost immediately, not least because she was presented with a hefty fine from Diamond City security for disturbing the peace.  
"Thank god. You can come out, it's empty. Just a diner". She called out, as the redhead pushed her bag, laden with junk and guns, to an empty table, and watched as Hancock walked in behind her. Their usual battle tactic was that she snuck in first, took out as many enemies as she could with her sniper, then dodged behind her lover when she got noticed so that he could blast them away with his shotgun. It usually worked pretty well but she was glad to have a break, it was getting late and she was tired - a mix of exhaustion and loss of blood. Only now did she realize just how tired she was, in the dim dusky light, and warmth. Well, warm when compared with outside. Any shelter from biting wind was welcome.  
Hancock put down his own bag next to hers and sat opposite her in the booth, and she smiled across at him, glancing over him. He never looked tired, always ready and rearing to go. Partly, Pol suspected, because he enjoyed traveling with her.  
"How you holding up, doll?" he said, voice husky and low, but she could hear the worry in his tone. He'd dispatched the raider that snuck up on her particularly vigorously.  
"I'm OK, took a few hits but nothing major. Gonna need patching up though" she said, smile still at her lips, voice ragged with tiredness. Her partner nodded, and opened his bag. "Let's sort you out then" he said, rummaging around to look for bandages, thread, and a long, sharp needle. He took out his lighter and burned the metal nib till it shone all black iridescent, and threaded it. She watched him, brow ceased with concentration, eyes focused on threading the thick cord through the eye. Pol was always surprised at how good he was at patching her up, how patient he was, and how gentle.  
Many things about him were surprising. She had expected a rough, weary man no better than a merc. Instead she got a man who simply didn't take things as they were given, who cared deeply and who was riddled with self esteem problems: yet despite that, he cared about those around him, wanted the best for everyone. He pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his pack and she leaned over appreciatively, grasping the cool glass.  
"Thanks, that'll hit take the edge off"  
"It's not for you, I need to steady my hand" he laughed, a barking chuckle, one that always made her smile and she grinned as she snatched the bottle from him, took a swig and hissed as the liquid burned on the way down.  
"Shit that's like vinegar" she winced, slamming the bottle down.  
"Nah! Aged like a fine wine, just like me"  
"Think you aged better than that, Hancock. I'd be worried if you aged like that..." she grinned, eye sparkling as she unhooked her chest plate and set it down, folding the straps neatly and then pushing her top down. She was wearing a harness, all the better to clip ammo onto, so she'd mostly bled onto herself rather than clothing; her skin sticky with dirt, sweat and blood. Hancock lifted the bottle to his lips.  
"Come on it can't be that bad". He took a swig, then sputtered just as she had. "Shit you're right. who pissed in my whiskey?" Pol laughed, then winced, the movement jogging open the wound on her shoulder. Hancock stopped laughing, stern all of a sudden, and motioned her over. "Come on let's fix you up before you bleed out, sister."  
She could hear the worry in his voice again, less hidden, more apparent.  
"John..." she whispered. He gazed at her, dark eyes emotive despite their deep, blackness. "I'll be fine" she insisted, though now she had noticed, her shoulder was stinging like a bloatfly barb. Or a hundred of them. Her lover nodded.  
"Yeah, but you smoothskin ain't as hardy as us ghouls. I worry, Pol. you handle yourself well but, damn, you gotta stop getting stabbed!" he paused, and she stood up, walked over to him and sat in front of him, back to him so he could stitch her up. She just huffed, waved a band.  
"I'm fine, it just stings. You don't have to worry" she reassured. He didn't say anything, just pushed her hair from her shoulder, up and to the side, and spat on a piece of ripped cloth. He dabbed at the gash in her shoulder, pausing to rub some of the whiskey-cum-vinegar into it. And then, she did hiss, as the alcohol burned into the cut, sending ripples of pain through her shoulder. Pol felt tears prick at her eyes, but blinked then back, focusing on anything but the sharp pain. she focused on the flicker of the light from the lantern, sending shadows up the walls. She focused on the rustle of Hancock clothes as he leaned over her. She focused on her fingernails, on counting the freckles on her thighs, on the bitter aftertaste of whiskey in her throat.  
Then, he spoke. Soft and quiet, as his fingers worked the needle through the first stitch. It was a weird sensation, the feel of the thread tugging at her skin, but not hurting, like a pinching sensation without the pain.  
"Pol, you are just the best damn thing I got. You are my reason for living. An I seen what them raiders do to gals like you, sometimes I just worry. what if--"  
He tugged on the needle and pushed it through another stitch, going quiet to concentrate on the action.  
She sighed, turned to face him as best she could. She could see he was focused fully on her wound; pinching the skin up with his fingers, to push the needle through. It hurt a little but the alcohol was enough to dull the pain, enough for her to ignore the sharp sting. Although in the back of her head, she did wish she has some Med X.  
"Hancock, I'm OK. I got you. You'd never let me down." and, despite the pain thrumming through her shoulder, she smiled her deep, long smile. It turned into a grimace as he pushed the needle through once more, and Pol winced. She saw him smile apologetically at her.  
"Just a few more to go darling. Yer doing well. And, I know. I'm not going to let you down. I'm done letting people down."  
"You don't have to worry. I trust you. You ran in the past but I sure aren't about to let you run now, Hancock. you're OK." she whispered. He didn't reply but she could tell, from the way his hand loosened a little, that he had heard.  
He finished stitching her up, mopping up the small amounts of blood that dripped down her shoulder with his handkerchief, patting her skin dry after washing it through with some purified water.  
"I think that one patch of skin is cleaner than the rest of you combined" he grinned, throwing his handkerchief to the side. Pol turned, reached over and patted down her shoulder, testing his work carefully, her skin still tender and weeping. It felt like a good job, better than she could have done, and she thanked him. Eight whole stitches that would need looking over properly by an actual doctor, but that would hold up till then.  
"I can't help it, don't feel like bathing in radiation soup."she said, defensively, a mock pout on her lips.  
"Hey, I'm not complaining, I like my girls dirty" he smirked back. Damn, even after all this time, he could still make her blush. even after everything. She felt a familiar heat creep up her neck, and across her cheeks, and was glad for the dim light of the diner.  
She leaned back into him, pressing her cheek to his chest and closing her eyes tight. She felt Hancock wrap his hands around her waist, fingers stroking at her bare skin, and she again marveled at the sensation of rough against smooth, of leathery finger against soft skin. She didn't react when he pressed his mouth to her ear, kissing her gently and pushing her hair from her cheek to kiss her there too. He did not speak, the only sound the crack of oil in the lamp and his raspy breathing against her ear. He was so warm. and Pol leaned into him more, the two of them practically lying flat against the bench, she positioned between his legs, his arms around her shoulders. Pol felt safe, comfortable, even after the day they had had. Hancock felt like home, like comfort and safety and everything she needed.  
They lay like that for a good with Pol drifting in and out of consciousness, till she realized they needed to eat. She said as much, rifled through her pack for some vegetables to throw into a soup- she'd saved some from the other day and could throw it together easy as pie. Probably easier, considering the current availability of pie. Hancock hand lingered on her bare skin as she stood up, his fingertips reaching for as much of her as they could, as though he did not want to let her go.  
Little things like that, really made her feel needed.  
She cooked up the soup in relative quiet, humming along to the radio - there had been one on the counter, still working, so she had turned it on to listen in on Travis; she worried about him still. Behind her Hancock smoked his way through a cigarette then counted out the caps he had collected over the day. Normally, they dropped in to Goodneighbor to drop some off with Daisy. His way of looking out for her. After a few moments, though, he turned to her.  
"Damn, I got a good view of you here" he chuckled, motioning to her ass. Pol paused, turned to him, took a second to realize what he was on about then threw a tato peeling at him, tutting as she did.  
"Real charming, you."  
He got up, walked over to her, wrapped his hand to her waist.  
"Hey, I can be real charming. I can also be real naughty, if the situation calls for it". His hand dipped to her ass, giving a playful squeeze, his teeth nipping at her ear. She gasped, then nudged him with her good shoulder.  
"Hey you want to eat tonight, hot stuff?"  
His mouth dipped to her neck, pressing hot kisses to her skin, lightly nipping at her.  
"I wanna eat something, doll".  
She felt a blush creeping up her neck again, spreading across her chest, and the beginnings of an arousal growing in her panties. As his mouth worked at her shoulder, a moan escaped from her lips and she felt herself moving to press herself to him. His hand once again grabbed her ass, firmer this time, with more dedication to gripping her hard. Then, he lifted her to the counter and spread her legs, moving so that he was stood in between.  
Pol pulled him from her neck and kissed him deeply, pressing her hand to his head and working her tongue into his mouth. He replied in earnest, groaning against her mouth and moving both hands to her waist, pulling her in and closer, tracing small circles into her waist. She could feel the beginning of an erection pressing into her core, straining against the material of his pants.  
"Damn Pol, the things you do to me" he broke off the kiss to whisper in her ear, nipping her gently. "I stare at that ass all day, I tells ya it does things to a man".  
Pol grinned and moved to kiss his neck, her fingers picking at his shirt, spreading the material to splay her fingers across his rough skin, her lover pulling her in closer, moving his fingers to the front of her harness, pressing down to rub her clit through the material. She gasped against his neck, moaning against his skin.  
"Now that's the noise I like to hear" he growled, quickening the movement just a bit-enough to make her whimper against him, moving her hips against his hand, urging him to move against her more. He obliged her, pressing his mouth to hers deeply, kissing her hard. Pol fiddled with his coat, undoing the buttons, returning his kisses all the while. He, in return, began unbundling her harness from her body carefully stripping it back from her shoulder, then her breast, and pulling the top of it down so it hung about her waist. Then the mayor made about moving his hand to her breast, cupping her gently and dipping his lips to her collarbone. There, he kissed her gently, moving his mouth lower till he was kissing her nipple, which hardened at the sensation.  
Her breath came in ragged gasps and she hummed his name against her throat, aching with lust. With every passing second she felt herself getting wetter and wetter, no thanks to the ghoul , who's mouth moved against her nipple; massaging her dark tips with his lips, his tongue, occasionally a slight tug with his teeth. All of it worked to push more moans from between her parted lips, head arched back and eyes lidded, heavy, shut, but fluttering. His hand still moved against the material of her harness, massaging and teasing her pussy and clit through the heavy cotton material. Pol bucked her hips, pulled his mouth further towards her nipple, eager to feel as much of him as she could. Her fingers stuck in his buttonholes, as she had become entirely lost, entirely distracted by the sensation. The rubbing of his rough skin against her chest, the feel of his bony fingers against her clitoris, her breathy utterances and curses under her breath.  
Hancock pulled back, moving to her neck again and unbuttoning the front of her harness, peeling away the material so that he could stroke the skin of her naval with one forefinger, gazing at her with his deep eyes, a dreamy smile tugging at his thin lips.  
"Damn, Pol" he whispered, huskily, his voice heavy with lust. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of the show you put on when I touch you". His words caught her off guard and she felt a heavy, red blush flush at her cheeks.  
"You-" she cleared her throat "you clearly had a lot of practice and, I like it when you touch me". The last part came out no more than a thin, excitable whisper, her blush betraying all to quickly just how embarrassed this made her.  
His mouth pressed to her ear, as a single finger dragged against her skin; making himself known to her, but refusing to go any lower than her panty line, he traced the edge of her underwear and laughed softly against her ear. She could feel him and knew he was just as aroused as she, stood as he was, his erection pressed to the inside of her thigh.  
"ou like it when I touch you, eh doll?"he sounded almost too pleased with himself there.  
She nodded, flush with arousal, lips pursed. She was worried some passing scav might hear them.  
Still he teased.  
"What about me touching you do you like?"  
his finger dipped down pressing to the soft mound of hair that marked the beginning of her pussy, pressed gently to her clitoris but refusing to touch her any more.  
"Hmm, gosh,you just. Know how to get a girl going, Hancock" she moaned, arched back, tossed hair, flushed cheeks, all of her so incredibly aroused even the feeling of clothing pressing to her skin was driving her crazy. He could tell and was grinning with satisfaction.  
Pol reached forward and touched him in return, pressing her hand to the hard arousal that pressed to his pants, eliciting a gravelly groan from him, his eyes closing, mouth agape. He suddenly, hot and fast, pressed his lips to her, pushing his hand fully against her clit, rubbing her tantalizing slowly , sending waves through her hips. She responded in kind, running her fingers along his ridged cock. She moaned against his mouth, kissing him deeply and tasting him in her mouth. Then, she unbuttoned his shirt, pressing her bare chest to his, marveling at the feel of his skin against hers, her hand dipping lower to his stomach, then his cock, which she stroked in full, languid motions, coaxing a steady stream of swears from her ghoul lover.  
He growled into her neck, pressing closer and against her hand, bucking his hips to hers.  
"Pol you're driving me crazy here." he groaned, nibbling her skin and pressing his cock closer to her hands, and her wanderings fingers. She played with the tip of his cock, spurred against his moaning. Then, she unbuttoned his trousers and dipped her harness down so the straps were around her knees.  
She was wet, thighs glistening with arousal, and the sight of her sat atop the counter, legs spread invitingly. His hand dipped to her mass again and he groaned, grabbing her firmly and pulling her right to the edge of the counter top. There, he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance, lips against her neck. There, he pushed inside her in one motion, teasing and pulling out straight away.  
She moaned and was interrupted with that motion before she could even fully gasp his name. She groaned, needing him inside her and he grinned at her, removing his hat and placing it beside her.  
“I forgot my hat”  
She rolled her eyes, but chuckled, then pulled him close by his ass, wrapping her legs around his waist so that he didn't have the chance to pull out again. He was all to happy to oblige, and began grinding his hips against hers slowly. Enough to send shudders of pleasure through her body, but not enough for her to be anything but frustrated. She gasped, and moaned his name, enjoying the teasing as much as she was frustrated by it. 

“You're a cold man, mayor” she whispered into his ear, nipping him then pulling back to look him in the eye. He was grinning, eyes shining, but she could see the lust in his gaze, how he wanted to let loose. She smiled, and moved her hips against his. He groaned her name, burying his fingers in her hair to pull her head back, allowing him better access to her neck- he kissed her there, then pulled out and thrust into her once more, a little harder than he had before. He progressed to fully fucking her then, thrusting in and out slowly. Again, enough to tease her, and please her, but not enough for anything more to occur. She gasped his name, moaning with each thrust, throaty and breathy and Hancock continued the movements, speeding up a little . He breathed against her neck, groaning with each thrust, breath coming in quick gasps. Eventually he came, with a cry, and Pol came not soon after, the pleasure thrumming through her lower body as she sighed, satisfied.  
The room felt a lot warmer and the smell of vegetable soup was filling it as the crack of the furnace and the glimmer of the lamp set a nice tone. Outside, she could see from a window that it was dark. Hancock pulled out, plastering her cheek with kisses as she reached over and put his hat on his head with a soft smile. 

“I think food'll be ready soon” she whispered, somewhat breathily for she was still out of breath from the intense orgasm. Hancock nodded, smiled, kissed her cheek again.

“thanks doll”, he whispered, helping her get down and rebuckle her harness, patting her ass as she walked over to the stove.


End file.
